


Sentient Shellfish

by hedgerowhag



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (a lot of it), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Featuring: the mistakes made while drunk, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Vomiting, and Hux's improved morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9774005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: The best way to tell someone you have a feeling or two for them is by vomiting into their lap.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nereidlilies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nereidlilies/gifts).



> happy belated valentines day! this is an ode to the stupid shit myself and my Significant Annoyance do/say while drunk (excluding the shellfish. that is something entirely other)

The people are packed into the house like sardines. Not quite on top of each other, but almost.

Hux pushes through a crowded doorway of the kitchen. Ping-Pong balls race overhead followed by a chorus of disappointed sighs. The fridge slams shut and someone slips on a scrap of pizza toppings.

Tipping the dregs of beer from the cup into the sink, Hux refills it with water and leans against the counter as he drinks.

Birthday parties, or parties in general, are not Hux’s forte (too many crowds, too many sounds, too much of everything), but he manages conversations and takes the queues to leave when things get muddy. And besides, as much as he doesn’t like them, Hux can’t talk his way out of a best friend’s birthday party.

Reaching the bottom of his cup, Hux sighs and drops it onto the counter. Shouldering past people, Hux leaves the kitchen and passes into the living room.

Music is a technicolour mess and drinks stain the carpet. The smell of cigarettes and food hangs in the air. The screen of the TV is flashing with the scenes of a game.

Hux can’t see Phasma’s platinum blonde hair. Last he saw her, she was laughing over a chipped glass of wine before her name was called and her tall figure disappeared between the crowds.

Scanning the faces under the sheet of hovering smoke, Hux walks out into the hallway and heads to the staircase.

There are ashtrays on the steps and empty bottles of soda. Someone has lost a bracelet and a hair tie. A door slams upstairs and another creaks.

“Phasma?” Hux calls out.

A murmur but no reply.

“Phas?”

“You lost, Armie?”

Hux is spun by his shoulder and pulled back into the living room. Sequins and chrome flash in front of his eyes.

“I should be going—”

“No. _You_ should be having another drink,” Phasma tells him over the music as she snatches a bottle of raspberry vodka off a cabinet and dumps the liquid into an empty red cup. It’s shoved into Hux’s hand.

The couch is cleared for Phasma’s arriving party that fall down onto the dented cushions. Hux is jammed against the armrest. He places the cup of murky vodka on the floor.

The murmur from upstairs is building. There is a crash. Feet patter. Someone shouts and full body slams against the wall on the staircase landing.

People are beginning to notice the noise.

Thump thump thump and the living room door swings open. It slams into someone standing beside the TV. Liquid spills on the floor but nobody is paying attention because the doorway is filled by the frame of a tall man with a bewildered look on his face.

He is breathing heavily, black hair all over his face and even in the half dark it’s visible how his tight t-shirt is sticky with sweat. His boots are unlaced and the moment he steps into the room, he trips.

A table loaded with ravaged snack bowls and pizza boxes flips and the food goes to the floor in a spray. The man, scrabbling and flipping on crushed chips, claws across the floor like a demented animal.

It’s only at the last moment Hux realises he is right in the man’s path. Hux jerks to get out of the way but air is knocked out of him when a heavy weight that smells of beer and vomit drops onto him.

Hux stares down at the mess in his lap, numb to the wide hands clinging to his thighs.

“I’ll have what he’s having!” someone shouts and the room erupts with laughter.

Phasma is cackling beside Hux but he doesn’t notice because the man in his laps is surging up, his fingers digging into Hux’s thighs, and his face takes on an expression of wild panic that tells Hux he is about to vomit.

Hux is pushing the drunk man off and dragging him by the collar of his t-shirt out of the living room. Hux don’t make a step into the dark interval of a hallway before he hears the sounds of retching at his feet.

“Guess he had enough.”

Hux turns and sees Phasma leaning against the doorframe. She is grinning behind the rim of her cup, her eyes are glassy and sparkling in the dim light.

“Who the fuck is he?” Hux demands breathlessly. Sputtering continues on the floor. “Did you invite a homeless man?”

Phasma ducks down a little and squints at the body on the floor. “That’s Kylo Ren. I think?” She takes a sip of her drink. “You should probably get him home.”

Hearing the word ‘home’, Hux is about to agree but then the rest of the sentence catches up with him. He does a double take on Phasma. “ _Me_?” he screeches.

“Yeah, well, you were gonna leave anyway. And you’re sober enough to drive.”

“I don’t even know this guy.”

“Now you do.”

Hux sees that this is a battle Phasma has come prepared for. Hux accepts defeat. “Okay,” he says. “Where does _Kylo_ live?”

“Fuck should I know?”

A scream comes from the kitchen and Hux realises that he lost his focus on Kylo. The man is no longer lying on the floor retching up his guts.

Hux sprints through the corridor, avoiding the dark unidentified patches, and skids into the kitchen.

Some people are laughing, some are just trying to stay out of the way. Kylo is kneeling on the floor in front of a counter, drinking something from a bottle that is spilling over his face and shirt front like a bad parody of a commercial. The bottle drops out of Kylo’s hand and it looks as if he is about to puke up his guts again.

Hux catches Kylo under his arms and drags him through the kitchen as people skitter out of the way. Kylo’s legs skid and flail as he grunts something Hux can’t make out as he pulls Kylo into the corridor. He tries not to think about why his feet are slipping.

Through the living room and to the front door Hux makes a hasty retreat. He grips Kylo around the torso and throws him out into the dark front yard. Someone is shouting “goodnight” to Hux but the door is shutting before he can reply.

Kylo is moaning on the concrete walkway when Hux comes down the steps.

“Get up,” Hux says, picking Kylo up by the scruff. Maybe the adrenaline makes it easier because Hux is certain that in any other circumstance he would not be able to drag up a man who looks like he could throw a tree (maybe the drop of alcohol helps too).

Cars are parked on the side walk and the lawn. It’s summer and the sky is still losing light on the horizon though midnight passed long ago.

Kylo is like a toddler that needs to be led by the hand; he stumbles into Hux the moment he lets go to get his keys out and unlock the car.

“Just give me a second!” Hux spits.

“N—” That’s the first distinct syllable the drunk has spoken to Hux. “I wanna— House— I wan’—” But before he can continue the stuttered thought, he is dumped onto the backseat of Hux’s car. Kylo blinks up at the roof, moving as if there is no gravity.

Panting, Hux leans against the door frame and looks across the road, trying to gather his thoughts. He ducks down where Kylo has finally managed to work out where is up and down.

“So. Kylo,” he says. “Apparently, it’s my lawful duty to chaperone you home. Give me your address.”

“M—” Kylo stops. Blinks. Blinks again. “M—” He is cut off by a sound that suggests that his stomach is disagreeing with him – a mixture of gagging and burping.

“Please don’t be sick,” pleads Hux. But Kylo squeezes his eyes and swallows. After a few moments he opens his eyes again, a little more dazed but less vomit-y.

“Thank you.” Hux sighs. “Now where do you—”

In a flash of action, Kylo opens the opposite door and retches onto the lawn.

“Never mind.” Hux is beginning to feel bad for Kylo; he is a sorry sight that needs to climb into his own bed and sleep off the oncoming hangover. But instead, he is on the backseat of a stranger’s car without any means by which to tell where he needs to go.

“Guess I’m not getting anything out of you.”

Kylo groans as he pulls the door closed and falls across the seats, breathing sporadically.

Nobody has ever called Hux a good person, but he has a certain set of morals that have been drilled into his skull by his mother that weigh heavier that the tome of the Old Testament. One of these morals is to never leave someone in a bad situation if you can help.

Hux considers Kylo who looks as if he is about to pass out. Is he even aware of what’s going on?

Will Hux get a ‘thank you’ or a punch to the jaw tomorrow morning?

It’s not like anyone at the party would be willing to help.

Hux decides to leave all the concerns for the morning. He closes the door and gets in behind the wheel, cringing at himself as he locks all the door as a precaution in case of a drunk escape.

Slowly, with groans from the backseat, Hux pulls the car off the lawn and onto the road. He is reciting to himself the reasons why he is helping some stranger and the texts he will send to Phasma tomorrow morning.

The suburbs begin to merge with the outskirts of the city and as lights flash into the car Hux hears the words, “It’s—It’s the aliens, i—isn’t it?”

“What?” Hux doesn’t take his eyes off the road even as the car halts at a red light.

There is a heavy gulp and then, “I—I—I always knew.” Gulp. “It’s gonna be the aliens. Dunno where they are but—”

“ _What_?” Hux is scared to look in the rear-view mirror.

Hands slam against the two front seats. Alcohol hot breath brushes on Hux’s shoulder.

“My god. You are fucking _beautiful_.”

Kylo is thrown into the back of the car as Hux presses on the gas and tears off down the road (the light had changed and he hadn’t noticed).

The slam knocks Kylo out cold and he is left snoring for the rest of the ride on the backseat.

The fire escapes loom above the streetlights like tangled webs. The wheels bump against the curb as Hux pulls up beside the apartment block.

Hux goes to get out of the car when he hears behind him, “You reckon shellfish are sentient? Ar—Are they cap—cap—capable of higher tho—ought?”

“Jesus Christ,” Hux whispers against the doorframe. With a sigh, he steps out of the car and opens the left passenger door. Kylo’s head drops out.

“Why did you even drink so much?” mutters Hux.

Kylo is gulping air like he is sinking. “What if—if they o—operate on a different level to u—us?”

“Get the fuck up.”

Kylo groans and convulses like a slug dipped in salt when Hux catches him by the arms and starts to pull. Kylo props his feet against the car roof, effectively jamming himself in.

“I don-n’t wanna—!” Kylo whimpers like a toddler. His feet scrape on the roof.

“You don’t have a choice!” Hux yanks again and Kylo collapses on top of him on the curb.

With the large arms around his shoulders, Hux manages to drag both of them up on their feet.

In slow stumbles, they arrive at the apartment building and Hux gets them inside. With clammy hands grabbing onto anything that protrudes for purchase, Hux drags Kylo into the elevator that perpetually smells of piss.

As they go up, Hux allows Kylo to collapse against one corner. Under the yellow flickering light, Hux can see the bruises on Kylo’s jaw and arms that are like a goddamn Monet painting. There are stains of colour under his eyes and red cracks on his lips. This man looks like he is _made_ to be a mess.

The elevator stops and Hux pulls Kylo after him who moves like a reanimated corpse. Whatever he had drank seems to be getting to him; Kylo is grimacing and with every stumble whimpering like the wrong move will have him heaving or falling.

Hux herds Kylo to the door and lets him slump against the wall as he squints through the dark to fit the key into the lock.

“Hold on, yeah?” Hux glances at Kylo who weakly nods against the painted concrete.

The door pushes open into the dark apartment. There is a smell of coffee hanging in the air and the cool from the curtains being closed most of the day.

Kylo follows Hux inside blankly, occasionally whining like an animal. Ahead of him, Hux rushes into the living room and pushes the splayed folders off the couch onto the floor. Kylo falls down on the cushions without question.

Hux looks at the drunk mess. He doesn’t know what to do. There have been the moments when he was the designated “mom” but that was back in college when Dopheld drank for the first time and overestimated himself. Plus, Hux was sufficiently drunk too and everything came a little easier.

In a tired daze, Hux goes into the bedroom. He finds the spare quilt folded on a chair and shoves it under his arm, snatching the spare pillow off the bed as he walks out.

Kylo is a sorry sight on the couch, head bowed and feet rubbing against each other. Hux dumps the items onto the couch and pries the unlaced, scuffed up boots off Kylo’s feet. Then, because he is already getting the shivers from gradual sobering, Hux throws the quilt over Kylo’s shoulders.

Kylo whines and Hux sits down on the couch beside him. He feels more drunk than he ought to be.

A weight falls onto Hux’s shoulder. Kylo rubs his head like a cat begging for affection. Hux pats him on the back.

“You’ll be back home tomorrow morning.” Hux keeps patting. “If you are still alive or at least conscious, I mean.”

Kylo groans, his head is drooping toward Hux’s chest.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m sure you’ll liv—”

Kylo begins to vomit onto Hux’s lap.

Having previously owned a cat, Hux knows to just stop breathing and close your eyes until it stops. Then, once a mostly empty Kylo falls back onto the couch, Hux carefully stands.

It takes a short waddle for Hux to reach the kitchen. Grimacing, he takes off his shoes, undoes the belt of his jeans, unbuttons them and kicks them aside onto the tiled floor. Hux is left standing in his underwear, socks and a short sleeved shirt.

For a moment, Hux thinks he is going to start crying. But instead, he shoves the jeans (minus the belt) into the washing machine, takes a plastic basin from under the sink and fills a glass with water.

Armed, Hux goes back into the living room where it seems Kylo is sleeping. He puts the basin and glass on the other side of the armrest where he knows Kylo wont step on either of the objects if he gets up.

“If you need anything I’ll be… I’ll…” Hux trails off; Kylo doesn’t seem to be paying any attention. So, he scratches the back of his head and goes to the bedroom. It’s been a hell of a night.

But as Hux steps from the couch, he hears, “Thought you’d rem’mber me.”

Hux turns around. Kylo doesn’t seem to be any more awake than he was a second ago.

“Huh?” Hux asks.

Kylo shifts a little on the couch. “I kept… Kept drinkin’ bec’se—bec’se I wanted to finally start… talking to you. I want to talk to you.”

Hux says nothing to that.

“I used to see you a lot… At parties… Once. I got wasted and pass’d out on the floor.”

Hux wonders if he should interrupt by now, but Kylo just keeps talking.

“I woke up, with vomit in my mouth in someone’s kitchen. I saw you—You stepping over me. Phas was with ya. I—” Kylo sounds like he is about to choke (Hux is praying he does) but Kylo soldiers on. “I saw you and thought ‘fuck, that guy is—is fucking beautiful an—an’ I want to kiss ‘im. S’me—S’meday’.”

Words are losing their coherence and Kylo is edging to the cliff edge of the couch.

“E’ery time I saw you. I wan’ed to c’me over. Talk t’ you. But I got nervous.” Kylo’s words slur wetly like water is pouring out of his mouth.

“So you drank,” Hux finishes for him.

There is a wet gagging sound and Kylo is falling off the couch with the quilt. In the dark, Hux can see Kylo crawling toward the plastic washing basin. Like a cat choking up a hairball, Kylo hunches over and retches.

 

 

Kylo would break the nose of the first person who accuses him of alcoholism. But, apparently, the person with a broken nose is going to be him.

Parties. Fucking _parties_.

First, he lost his ride. Second, Phasma kept shoving drinks into his hand that, after seeing Hux, he began to willingly accept.

Hux.

_Motherfucker_ —

Kylo did it again: he panicked and drank too much. Instead of starting a smooth conversation, he fell onto Hux and then almost… _Almost_ vomited on him.

He needs to get out of the house before anyone recognises him or Phasma throws him out with only one shoe and no money.

Kylo cracks open his crusted eyelids. The light stings and pain reverberates through his skull. Kylo closes his eyes and begins to move with a plastered grimace.

Odd. The carpet is moving with him.

Everything is tilting and the warm softness of the carpet is not leaving Kylo. He opens his eyes again through the pain.

This is not Phasma’s floor. Or her curtains that close over a balcony. This is not her stack of notebooks and folders slapped onto a computer stool. This is not her sky blue quilt that falls off Kylo.

This is not Phasma’s house.

Kylo’s eyelids click as he looks at a blurring plate of buttered toast and glass of orange juice beside a box of paracetamol.

A cereal box rattles and Kylo turns, almost falling back onto the floor.

Like a window, a portion of a wall has been carved out to peek into the nook of the kitchen. It’s all neat and finished with black granite. The cupboards are painted white and nothing out of place is in sight except for a box of cereal and a bowl that is scooped up and a spoon is plonked inside.

Wiping the milk of his lower lip, Hux walks out of the kitchen. He’s dressed in an oversized white t-shirt and black sweatpants. When he picks up the spoon and ducks to catch the drops of milk, his hair flops over his face.

Oh holy mother of fucking shit.

Kylo is about to cry.

Hux takes another mouthful of cereal and looks down at Kylo. He waves with the spoon as he chews.

Kylo is crying.

He is covered in Hux’s quilt, sitting in Hux’s apartment, watching Hux eat breakfast. Kylo doesn’t have a clue what happened.

He is still crying and the cereal bowl is dropped onto a counter. The spoon clatters.

“Fucks sake—”

A paper towel is scratching Kylo’s cheeks. He is trying to hide in the quilt, but he is sat on the majority of it and the edges don’t quite reach Kylo’s face.

“I swear to whatever is holy, if you start calling me beautiful again—”

Kylo tips onto the floor in numb shock as he sobs. He has fucked everything up and he should probably shrivel until Hux can’t see how red he is. Instead of shrivelling, Kylo covers his face with his hands and heaves.

“Do you want painkillers?”

Kylo nods into his hands.

The packet of tablets rustles and the foil tears.

“You’re gonna have to get up for this.”

Kylo feels his stomach groan as he sits. He has vomited everything he had eaten and there is nothing left but acid. Kylo keeps his eyes closed until his back is against the couch.

Opening one eye after the other, Kylo looks at Hux. He is sleep softened and sat on the floor with one knee against his chest. He is handing Kylo two tablets and the glass of juice. There is a scrunched up paper towel beside him.

Kylo take the tablets with his large, clammy hand from Hux’s own cool one. He shoves the paracetamol into his mouth and grabs the glass without looking. Kylo gulps the liquid as drops drip from the corners of his mouth.

“You know, you didn’t need to get drunk to talk to me.”

Kylo spits the juice back into the glass. He squints at Hux who is looking at him from behind his knee.

“Clearly you don’t know yourself,” Kylo says as he slurps back up the last dregs of the drink.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Hux argues.

“Sure seemed like you would hurt someone when they spoke to you. Any conversation looked like a fist fight.”

“Then why did you want to even speak to me?”

Kylo shrugs. “Look. Can you just— Forget it?” He fumbles for words that will excuse him out of this situation. “You’re not interested. Whatever. Sorry for being a bother.”

There is a laugh and Kylo looks up. Hux is smiling like he has heard the stupidest thing. He isn’t even looking at Kylo. Hux bites his lip and crosses his legs. Finally, he looks at Kylo.

“I’m gonna be honest. I don’t remember you and I’ve only known you when you were vomiting onto my lap,” he says. “Despite that not being the best impression, I’m sure it’s not all these is to you.” Hux smiles a little wider; he must see the hope on Kylo’s face. “I think I could give you another chance.”

Kylo smiles and instantly pulls down on his lips to not seem too eager. But the grin persists and he is scraping his face with his hands.

“Please don’t start crying again,” Hux says, but there is laughter in his voice.

“Shut up,” Kylo mumbles and wipes at his eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, that feeling is definitely mutual.”

Between the laughter, Kylo’s stomach begins to make its own conversation. Taking the empty glass, Hux pushes the plate of buttered toast toward Kylo.

Once Kylo catches the smell of food, he manages to forget about Hux. Scooping the torn pieces of toast into his mouth, Kylo occasionally chokes and drinks from the glass of water that has been placed beside him.

With butter coated lips and a full stomach, Kylo watches Hux from the floor as he wanders about the kitchen with a freshly poured cup of coffee. It burned Hux’s lip and he blows cool air over the surface of the liquid.

Funny, how Hux appears so human instead of the neon silhouette that Kylo admired from a distance. Some untouchable god who he crawled after, drunk. But really, he is a man who has his frayed edges and moments of clumsiness.

Hux takes his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and starts to type, leaning against the counter. He has his back to Kylo. The sun is warm and drapes through the rooms.

Kylo knows that he prefers this. Someone with a heartbeat and a smile. Not an idea.

There is a hissed curse. Hux has spilled the boiling coffee onto his leg. His phone chirps and he sets the mug down.

“Phas says you owe her new carpets,” Hux calls out.

“Well.” Kylo stands, hugging the quilt around his shoulders. He doesn’t feel as shaky. “She owes me a new liver.”

Hux snorts, but types. “I’ll tell her just that.”

Yeah, Kylo prefers this.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone wants to argue that it's impossible to vomit that much after drinking, im the living breathing proof that it is very possible


End file.
